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12.5.07

Hollow ache?

The strip of capsules shone. I touched it wondering what colour awaited me; I knew the shape…I had tried to feel it through the foil. It was cylindrical. As my finger prised it open, I felt a jab. There was blood, just a drop of it. Who would have imagined that one can get hurt while looking for a cure? I stood my finger below the tap and let the water hit it. To lessen any pain just cause it more pain, then you forget the reason.

Usually I like to look at the location. It is like a sight-seeing trip for me. But the cut was not deep. It was shallow…I am discovering words like shallow, hollow; they seem anachronistic in my scheme of things, but my scheme is not the world’s view. So the cut was shallow, and it helps if you pronounce it wrong and emphasise on the last syllable. Then it can get really low.

Now I don’t know how much you are aware about surface wounds. They are deceptive; you can barely see what they look like. I often ignore them and let them heal on their own. Today, I applied an ointment and put a Band-Aid over it. Not because of the pain but because I do not wish to be reminded that anything that appeared to look so harmless could hurt.

I looked at the strip of the medicine again. A small bit of blood was at the edge of the silver foil. Inanimate objects have the grace to acknowledge when they have hurt you…who knows, it must have also felt that jab?

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A closer look

I dabble in what people call creative pursuits (I find fine dining extremely creative too).
Am a frustrated artist. A frustrated singer. A frustrated gourmand. A frustrated photographer.This helps. It adds pathos to the plebeian. It gives me more to write about.
A curious voice might want to ask, “But what do you really do?” Those who know a bit about me are aware, and for those who are not I am a blank sheet; I like to start anew. Words are a weapon, they are also a shield. They are a blessing and they are a curse.
The main blog is called ‘Cross Connections’ based on the title of an old column of mine, one of many – the longest went on for 11 years. You will probably find remnants (and some renewal) scattered around in the cyber world…for the rest, they are mostly yellowing parchment. Once when I saw my words and face in a newspaper splattered with ketchup at a roadside stall, I admit I was devastated. I do not like ketchup.
I have a healthy disregard for objectivity. Give me an 'ism' and I shall give you a subjective opinion.